


The Path of Blue Lights

by Rozilla



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Gen, Horror, Labyrinths, ghost story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozilla/pseuds/Rozilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natalie Ortega is a teacher, level headed, sensible and not the first person you would ask to travel into the underworld that opens beneath her school.<br/>But she has no choice.<br/>Her sister has been lured away by a path of blue lights - has pledged herself to serve Hel, the goddess of death. Natalie must get her back, meet the challenges set by Hel, before the night is up or she will lose her sister and her soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Path of Blue Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Still attempting a YA horror novel.

My name is Natalie Ortega. I have a younger sister named Simone. I am a teacher. I love books, where real stuff happens to real people. My expertise has always been dealing with reality as I see it - analysing what I see and acting on it. Simone never did - she buried herself headlong in her comics, movies, novels or her phone... leaving me to pick up what was left.

I don't know about magic and ancient curses because I always assumed they didn't exist. What's the point in learning about things that aren't real? Simone was obsessed by Ancient Egypt and by weird pagan magic... amongst other things. I found a few books on ghost hunting and paranormal phenomenon, which made me roll my eyes. Then her teachers, my colleagues, would tell me about the symbols she draws on her books, her arms, her desk and, of course, the walls. I would have to try and explain away this behaviour, try and assure everyone that she's actually brilliant and clever and talented and not a sullen, graffiting little toe-rag.

What else am I supposed to do?

 She would draw in her sketchbook as well, mostly pictures of women - noses, eyes, lips, ears, sometimes bodies. At first I wondered about Simone's... preferences... but then I noticed something particular about the women in her sketches... it was all the same woman. It was as if Simone was studying her, each part of her in turn, carefully rendering her in pencil shading. I didn't recognise her, I saw no pictures of her, no statues Simone studied. The woman herself did not appear to exist in the real world - only in Simone's head, which given how accurate and careful the sketches were, was pretty amazing. If I ever asked for the woman's name, whether she was based on a real person or was a character she created, Simone would fly into a foul temper and scream at me to leave her alone, that this was private. So I never asked again.

I think I know now who she is. Or was. I'm almost certain.

Other things would appear drawn on notebooks or various pieces of paper - monsters. She constructed them out of other animals she sketched from books - one creature had the wings of a bat, the body of a monkey, the legs of an owl and the head made from what looked like a goat skull. She would give them names underneath like 'Skitter', 'Night Gaunt' or 'Chimera'. I knew these names came from her books and movies she would obsess over. 

If I dared to tell her she was talented, she would shrug and ignore me.

Sometimes, I would get frustrated, even angry, but all that did was make her shrink away and cry, making _me_ look like the bad guy. So, eventually, I gave up. I still cared, but I knew better than to dare suggest she try and be a bit more... I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. If I ever did.

I could tell she was being bullied - Hell, it was obvious. I couldn't even try to help her then, not without a sullen face or, worse, a screaming fit about how I was 'interfering'.

I have to keep reminding myself she is fourteen. It's hard. I won't lie.

Then, one day, Dan helped. I would sit in his classroom and chat whilst he tidied away the mess left behind by the kids. He extracted sweet wrappers and paper and sometimes worse from between the computers in the ICT room, whilst I chattered on and on about so many things. Pretty much everything - except Simone. The more I think about it, the more it seems to obvious how I avoided talking about her. I couldn't bring myself to. I wanted just a few moments to have a laugh with him, just to forget for a while, wanted to keep things light and funny. We would make each other laugh.

I loved laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. I miss it.

I'd wind up spending hours with him, with Dan, after school had finished, just talking, until I would realise that Simone was waiting for me in my own classroom. She'd send a terse text and that'd be the end. I would have to leave. Reluctantly. Dan would smile and shrug and wave me off with a 'See you tomorrow'. It would make me happy, especially when he would say 'See you tomorrow' on a Friday night.

It'd give me hope that he was enjoying my company almost as much as I was enjoying his. Now I hope it was just a mental blip, that he just humoured me and didn't really care.

It'd make things easier.

Simone cared, I know this now. It's obvious from her drawings, her secrets, her research.

She was leaving me the amour I would need to survive the night, the clues that would lead me out of the labyrinth.

She found the path of blue lights. Soon... so would I.


End file.
